A Man's Heart (3 page)

J
ules!” A spoon of oatmeal sailed through the air when Sophie bound to her feet to hug her. “It's so good to have you home.” Pausing, she drew back and her features distorted in a heartbreaking expression. “I'm so sorry about Pop. Everyone prayed so hard; we thought Fred's injury was minor.”

“I know.” Jules patted her on the back, shed another bucket of tears. She reached for the oatmeal-covered Olivia. “Livvy's growing so fast.”

“Like ragweed.” Grinning, Sophie wet a washcloth and cleaned the toddler's face. “She's twenty-two months now and you won't believe her vocabulary. She must take after her father's side. She's almost two, going on nine.”

Time sped by too quickly. Jules had been with Sophie through labor and delivery, but a week later she'd returned to college and the winter session. Last summer flew by and she was back in college before she realized it. Sophie emailed pictures, but there was only so much to be said in cyberspace and even harder to imagine that this chubby angel was growing up fast. Sophie motioned to a chair. “Tell me what's happening. I know you're reeling with Pop's death.”

The dam burst and Jules stepped back into her friend's arms and poured out her heart. Once the flood of emotion subsided, she wiped her nose and concentrated on happier days. “I'm graduating in a couple of weeks.”

“I know. Pop and I …” Sophie paused. “I'm planning to be there.”

“He almost lived long enough to see his dream realized.” Jules sighed and reached to butter a piece of toast. “Pop was really looking forward to the event.” He'd been proud of her accomplishment and rooted for the experimental potato; he'd also been grateful because he knew she'd sacrificed Cruz's love with her unselfish act.

Nodding, Sophie said, “I was going to drive, and then we were going to take you for a celebration dinner at Holliman's.”

“Ah. I'd have loved that.”

Silence closed over the kitchen as Jules fought back tears. Pop had to scrimp to send her to college. The money could have gone toward a new irrigation system, but he figured her education would pay off more in the long run if they could grow the business, and growing the business took more educational savvy. With Pop gone, enlarging the business made little sense. Crystal hated potato farming. She'd want to sell the operation as soon as possible and split the proceeds.

“Crystal coming to the funeral?”

Jules smiled. Sophie was always tuned in to her thoughts. “She told Joe she was. I haven't talked to her.”

“When is the service?”

“Day after tomorrow.” Jules reached for a napkin and dabbed the corners of her eyes. She hadn't seen Pop yet, just taken his clothes to be buried in. Sunday suit. Blue tie. White
shirt. She'd shined his best shoes to be set at his feet. Seeing him would be hard; he was always so full of life.

“As sad as it is, you wouldn't wish him back,” Sophie comforted.

“No.” She glanced up and smiled. “Everything okay with you?”

“The usual. Money is so tight right now.”

Jules didn't know how Sophie kept a cheerful spirit; she'd married two absolute losers.

She flashed Jules a grin, a grin from a woman who had been unlucky in love more times than Jules could fathom. “Ethan's dad isn't exactly Father of the Year, but he pays support on time. The kids and I make it. Barely, but we survive, and Cruz says the crop looks pretty decent this year —” Her tone caught and she sheepishly glanced away. “Sorry.”

Jules could read her like a book; they both tried to avoid her brother's name but it naturally came up. “I saw him and Adan earlier when I was making Pop's arrangements.”

“You spoke?”

“Ha. He didn't glance my way. Is he still struggling to keep the farm afloat?”

“Oh, you know that old farm. Never did produce much. Don't know why Dad held onto it, but Cruz and Adan can't sell it, so they've moved back to the house. Cruz has the lower floor and Adan took the second one. They're making ends meet.”

“Pop mentioned that they hit a rough patch these past couple of years.”

“You know my brothers. They don't give up easily. We'd have been okay last year, but then we got tuber-moth infestation and it ruined the crop. It's zero tolerance in tubers headed
for the processor these days. Nobody cares to find a worm in their fries.”

Nodding, Jules finished the toast. “I hate myself for what I did to Cruz, Sophie. I love your brother with all my heart, I just get …”

“Cold feet when you think about marrying him?” Her friend smiled. “I know my ordeals haven't been the best influence for matrimony — or your parents' marriage. I'd like to tell you that Cruz will eventually get over it, but he was pretty ticked at you this time.”

She wasn't telling Jules anything she didn't know. Four years and they still were ignoring each other. That was the worrisome part. And yet she sympathized with Cruz. If Mom and Pop's turbulent marriage hadn't soured her, Sophie was living proof that a woman ought to think before she leaped into matrimony.

Sophie glanced at the clock. “Oh great. I have two doctor's appointments. Livvy has a check-up and I have one.”

“Are you sick?”

Her friend grinned. “Yes. The thought of a physical makes me ill, but since I skipped the last one, I figure I'd better show up for this one. Come by later tonight and we'll have supper.”

Jules helped her clear the table. “Can't, but thanks. The church is bringing in all kinds of food. I need to be there with Joe—and Crystal, if she shows up.”

“You think she will?”

Lifting a shoulder, Jules rinsed a cup and stuck it in the dishwasher. She thought of her drop-dead gorgeous, blonde haired, blue-eyed, year-round-tan sister, the picture of the quintessential “love child.” “I'd be surprised if she did. She
loved Pop, but they lost closeness a year or two after she and Mom left.”

“That's sad.” Sophie lifted Livvy above her head and grinned. “You're a good girl. Yes you are. You're a—” A blob of oatmeal hit Sophie between the eyes. She lowered the child, wincing. “Rats. I know better than to do that.”

I
t was close to ten when Cruz removed his hat, and stepped into the Mellon Mortuary foyer behind Adan and Sophie. As he'd figured they would be, gleaming oak pews were filled to capacity. Fred was well-respected in the community, and his death came as a shock to his neighbors and friends. If it weren't for Fred's friendship over the years, Cruz sure wouldn't put himself through the ordeal. He stepped to the guest book, scrawled his signature and then followed the crowd to the chapel, searching for Sophie and Adan, whom he'd lost in the shuffle. They promised to save him a seat.

As he passed the west entrance, the door opened and the family began to file in. Hat in hand, he stepped back and cleared the way as Fred's brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles filed past. Jules, on Joe's arm, brought up the rear. He searched for Crystal but Jules was last to exit the family car.

She briefly met his eyes when she passed and he looked away, unable to bear the raw emotion he saw.

He waited until the family seated themselves before he stepped to the chapel door. Adan and Sophie sat to the far left between two women. His brother and sister appeared to
be holding their own, saving a ten-inch square on the padded bench.

Celebrating Fred's life was easier than Cruz figured. The minister spoke about the good the potato farmer had done in the community, his gift for compassion, his unwavering love for God and his fellow man.

Midway through the service he had the mourners laughing over the time Fred chased a couple of pigs through town one Fourth of July.

Cruz determined he wasn't going to look at Jules, wasn't going to witness her grief, but more than once he caught his gaze centered on her, smiling through tears when someone told a story about Fred that she hadn't heard. Okay, Fred was a good guy. He'd just raised a selfish daughter. His eyes scanned the crowd packed in the hallway. Two selfish daughters. Crystal hadn't made it.

An anchor dropped from his neck when the service ended. He decided not to file by the casket. He'd never forget Fred, and the long late night talks they'd had the two times he'd sought Cruz out to reason with him on Jules's behalf. He'd talked long into the night, trying to make him understand his very complicated daughter, and his personal need to grow the farm. Said Jules was like her mother; mulish, and Cruz knew that if Jules heard that, she'd come out swinging. She resented her mom's leaving, resented the choice between mother and father forced on her.

Stepping into the bright sunshine, he put on his hat. Cars were already lining up for the cemetery service. He pictured Jules and Fred's family gathering around the flag-draped casket, saying their final good-byes. Fred served in Viet Nam and was allotted full military honors. This nagging feeling that
somehow he should be beside Jules at the cemetery when Taps sounded to show respect to the fallen, supporting her, irked him. Fred might be like family, but it was a family he could lay no claim to.

On the other hand, he wouldn't step ten feet within Jules's range if she'd asked. She would sell-out shortly after Fred was in the ground, and he wouldn't have to put up with these old feelings. She'd move on, buy a new place up north, and use her fancy education to grow bigger and larger crops.

As far as he was concerned, that day couldn't come fast enough.

The family exited the church and he focused on a blooming bush.
No way was he going to let her get to him this time.
No way.

Mid-afternoon, Cruz and Adan were putting a new clutch in a tractor when Cruz glanced up to see a young woman walking toward him, carrying her shoes in her hand. Blonde, loose fitting skirt and blouse, bracelets lining tan, slender arms. Crystal was here. He glanced at his watch. Six hours late.

Face flushed, hair hanging in curly strands, Jules's sister approached the men. Adan straightened to meet her. “Hey, Crystal.” The two were about the same age. They'd gone through kindergarten, first, second, and part of third grade together. “Adan.” She glanced at Cruz. “Is Jules angry?”

Turning back to the tractor, Cruz muttered, “You'd have to ask her.”

“I was going to be here.” Crystal pitched her shoes and
oversized purse on the ground and sat on a discarded tire. Sweat rolled down her temples.

Adan glanced at Cruz, then broke the uneasy silence. “What happened?”

“The cab broke down. By the time they sent another one, the second one had a flat and the spare was missing from the trunk. They sent a third cab, and he's new to the area and finally I told him to let me out and I'd walk the rest of the way.” She glanced at the red five gallon water cooler. “Can I have a drink of water?”

Adan poured water in a plastic cup and handed it over. “Why didn't you call one of us?”

“I don't have your cell phone numbers. I did try the house and nobody answered.” She drank thirstily and lifted her cup for more. “I suppose they didn't postpone the services until I got here.”

Cruz bit back a snort. “No. The funeral went as planned.”

“Then Pop's already buried?”

He nodded.

She sighed.

“I tried my best.”

“That's all a person can do.” Cruz straightened from the engine, wiping his hands on an oily cloth, then he looked at Crystal as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Adan, why don't you take her to Fred's place?”

“Where's your luggage?”

She motioned to a large purse. “I didn't have time to pack much. I wanted to be here … honest. Did you go?”

Nodding, Cruz set the rag aside. “It was real nice. Chapel was filled — some had to stand in the hallway.”

“Did he have enough flowers? I was going to buy fresh ones when I got here …”

Cruz wasn't sure how much was enough, but he had a bunch. “Lots of flowers. He had a good burial, Crystal. Don't beat yourself up. You made an effort to get here. That's what counts.”